Bound & Unbound Heart
by Brandywine00
Summary: Ellie's scared to let her secret desires be known, but John understands. NC-18 WARNING: EXPLICIT, ADULT, consensual BDSM, angst, kink. Don't like, then don't read ;D. Posted on LJ, written for Jellieshippers BDay challenge...WIP through Ch.9.
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor's Discovery  
Author: Brandywine00  
Rating: NC-18/Mature Explicit~ADULTS ONLY! I MEAN IT!

Written for the Jellie_Shippers LJ Birthday Challenge. May not seem it at first, but I promise this will turn 'Birthday' theme! Hope y'all enjoy. Blame it on the Evil Kink Plot Bunny. Self-beta'd, so please point out boo-boos.

.*.*.

It took her by complete surprise, though really, Ellie believed she'd known all along.

The knowing had always been there, locked away in some deep, repressed recess of her soul, like a dirty, sinful secret she didn't want to forget, but dared not let it draw breath in the daylight. If she did, the rest of the world – her friends, her co-workers, God help her, her family – would see it there, branded on her skin like a glowing scarlet A. Or maybe an S. Yes, that was more fitting. She hadn't actually cheated, at least nowhere but in her mind, and even there the face of that 'other' was cloaked in shadow.

She liked to tell herself that should the light flood the room, she'd be greeted by touselled sandy-blond hair and light-hearted blue eyes and a mischievous boyish grin. Tried so desperately to convince herself it was so, though in her heart of hearts, she knew he'd never fully give life to that role. Heaven knew she'd thrown enough hints his way that even a blind man should have seen what she really wanted. Needed. But his sunny disposition and giving nature kept him from being that which she needed to fill this craving. He would never take. Never lay claim to her body. Never possess her so totally as the Shadow Man in her fantasies.

Oddly, it was Devon who inadvertently first set her on this path of discovery. His love of fitness had prompted him to buy her a set of ankle and wrist straps, simple weighted Velcro bracelets and anklets with a measure of sand in each. Not particularly sexy in their own rights, but she caught herself admiring the way the black nylon fabric wrapped snugly around her trim ankles. Started to notice when the added weight pulled against her wrists. Nearly came undone the day she somewhat accidentally discovered how much the very sight of them on her limbs caused an added wetness between her thighs.

But it was the sunny afternoon, alone after a run through the neighborhood, when she'd kicked off her shoes and socks, and fallen back on her bed with arms and legs outstretched, that she consciously became aware. She'd been hiding from it and stalking it ever since.

It had started innocently enough. Letting her breath come back to normal as the thrum of her pulse beat steady, rapid time through her arms and legs, she brought one knee up, resting her foot flat on the bed and lifted her hips. The running shorts and her panties were soon dispatched, followed by her tank top and the sports bra that flattened her ample breasts against bouncing. Her nipples ached from the confinement, and she lightly rubbed them for relief as she let her body cool down before her shower.

"Welcome back, girls," she laughed lightly, gently kneading the aggrieved globes. As she reached one long leg up to remove the ankle weight, she was suddenly struck by the four straps at her extremities, the blackness against her lightly tanned naked body.

A shiver ran through her as the similarities dredges up memories, of photos she'd briefly seen in magazines, those pictures that she told herself were degrading and had no place in the fantasies of grown professional women, accomplished women, doctors, for heaven's sake. And though she'd quickly looked away from those explicit scenes of beautiful, naked bodies, captured and pleasured at a firm man's whim, she couldn't ignore the quiver that rippled through her now slickened nether lips.

Ellie let the shudder ride through her as a heat rushed up her chest and neck to her cheeks. It was wrong to want that. Wasn't it? All the pro-feminist talking points shouted that she shouldn't want to be the woman in those photos, never go there willingly. Yet wasn't the whole pro-fem movement about the right of choice? Acceptance? Her logical mind battled back. Who were they, or anyone else, to tell her what was acceptable?

In sheer defiance, if somewhat guiltily, Ellie pushed back the butterflies in her stomach and centered herself on the large bed. No one was home. No one would be home for hours. This was her house, damn it, her body. Who would tell her what could and should please her?

Stretching her legs wide in emulation of the sensual women in those pictures, she glanced down to look at her body. Firm, rose-tipped breasts jutted high against the open air, still flushed from her exercise. Her trim, toned stomach dipped between her hips, not bony, but with just enough flesh to provide a mature curve. Enough softness for a man to grasp hold of in the throes of passion. Beyond the neatly trimmed patch of dark hair at the apex of her limbs, her long thighs and calves stretched on, all the way down to the heavy, black material strapped around dainty ankles. She arched her foot, as if putting on a glass stiletto-heeled slipper, and the effect was jolting.

Ellie laid her head back and closed her eyes, letting the vision of her splayed body play in her mind as she slid her palm along the plane of her abdomen. Reaching the juncture of her legs, she lightly grazed her fingernails along the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, picturing not just the black straps on her ankles but a thin silver chain extending from each to the footboard of her bed. The image sent a bolt of electricity and nervousness through her, and she spread her legs a little wider just to show herself she could.

Trailing small arcs on her thighs, she drew her fingers nearer to center, imagining the slender, elegant fingers were long and thick and slightly callused. Those erotically masculine fingers traced the soft, hot flesh of her outer lips, slid carefully but purposefully along the valley between the inner and the outer folds, paused only a fraction at the far end of her slit before gliding slowly along the now soaked slick opening, up to the firm, aroused bud at the top. Wetting the sensitive button with her own juices, the fingers dipped back down to bathe her lips in the same, passing side to side across the satiny wings.

A moan filled the room. She was only minutely aware that it was her own as the other hand brushed lightly up her tightening torso, up over the aching mound that was her breast. Grasping the silky flesh, she arched up into her – his – touch, his warm hand palming and massaging her as the other dipped into the heated silk of her core. So slow. Moving so slow, drawing out the pleasure. Firm fingers pinched at her nipple and pulled gently. Another, deeper moan echoed through her mind, hers – his – and the hand slid across her tender skin to tease the nipple of the other breast. She felt the fingers lower into her dripping center before returning to pluck at the tender nipple. The wetness and the firmness felt so very like warm, sensuous lips nibbling at her that she nearly peeked to watch him work expertly on her hardened nub.

"Oh, god… oh, god… oh, yes, more, please more please more," she keened, raising her hips high into the pleasuring touch of fingers that knew just where to go, just how fast to stroke, just how deeply to penetrate her before slowly drawing out and back in. She could feel the weights heavy around her ankles as she arched up on the balls of her feet, desperate to connect more deeply with the firm, fulfilling touch and not disappointed as three fingers curled into her, drawing her pleasured screams over and over and over.

.*.*.

To be continued….

(Author's note: *Sigh* I said I wasn't gonna do it. Said no more stories 'til I get one of the others finished. Said if, IF, mind you, I wrote this one, it would be a one-shot, and that was FINAL!

Crap. All I can say is the Plot Bunny ambushed me, beat me repeatedly about the cerebral cortex and threatened to chew my shins off if I didn't go ahead and get this one started. Folks, my cerebral cortex may already be a loss, but I really need my shins. Boots just don't look right without 'em. So… I caved. *Sigh* Hope you all enjoyed. I appreciate all reviews, thanks so much! This is me, so of course, there will be more. Like I could stop it! ;D)


	2. Chapter 2

The Birthday Surprise ~ Chapter Two  
Author: Brandywine00  
Rating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! I MEAN IT!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Written for the Jellie_Shippers LJ Birthday Challenge.  
Special thanks to the excellent BigBadJayne for the super beta and suggestions.

.*.*.

The first time, it took him nearly by surprise, though in hindsight he knew he'd probably picked up the signals on a subconscious level.

This mission with the Intersect required total concentration, so much so that John Casey had compartmentalized the stream of constant sensory input bombarding his mind each day. 'Threat', 'potential threat' and 'minimal threat' occupied separate folders in his mind, each bit of subtle data being scanned, sorted and forwarded to the appropriate folder for future processing.

"Great. I'm even starting to think in computer terms now." The big man grumbled, settling into the wide leather recliner with a glass of scotch and a plate of re-warmed homemade cherry cobbler. It wasn't exactly birthday cake, but birthday cobbler made by the hands of sweet Ellie Bartowski was a treat for so many reasons.

Stretching his legs out against the footrest, he raised a large, crust-laden forkful of the tangy sweet to his waiting mouth and paused.

"Damn it," he muttered, letting the fork clatter against the plate as a red dot flashed in the surveillance array nearby. "Damn moron can't even get a cover date right. So much for a peaceful night off."

The control for several listening devices placed strategically throughout Casa Bartowski was switched to only pick up on sounds of a certain decibel level. There shouldn't have been anything loud enough to trigger the receiver to alert. The jock-doc was working a night shift. Ellie was home, presumably alone, and had hinted loudly to Woodcomb that her splitting headache didn't warrant a mid-shift call home, since she planned to medicate, bunk down and be fast asleep within half an hour.

Chuck was out with Sarah, 'securing the cover' with another in a series of controlled dates. The sudden spike in volume could only indicate a problem, most likely another of their eternal arguments and an early arrival home, or possibly a flash from the Intersect. Neither option correlated with John's idea of a peaceful night.

Damn. Walker was supposed to have the asset under control, have the handling of him this evening. It was supposed to be his night off, his birthday, though it had been a long time since he'd really felt like celebrating on the occasion. Even the impromptu get-together Chuck had insisted on (laying the blame on socially-minded Ellie, of course) wasn't as appreciated as an actual night with no geek debates or echoes of video games assaulting his ears.

General Beckman had even ordered the respite, hence the nerd's last-minute dream date: an all-night marathon showing of the Star Wars saga. John spared a grunt of sympathy for Walker. It was the best gift she could have given him, keeping Chuck occupied for a whole night. He really had to remember to repay the debt on her birthday. Maybe a nice set of throwing knives.

Turning on the visual feed, he was surprised to find the apartment's lights still off, no signs of Bartowski or Walker in the general areas. A check showed the nerd's bedroom still darkened. No evidence of movement, even on the infrared band. Quickly calling up the parking lot surveillance cam, John was rewarded with an empty parking spot where the Herder rested at night. Assessment: Bartowski had either escaped Walker, snuck past his own security systems and somehow procured a lead sheet to hide behind in order to defy the heat scans; or alternately, he hadn't come home yet. John's educated guess was the latter.

Frowning at what could have caused the disturbance at one a.m., he flicked the receiver's switch to 'on' and donned the headset to identify the source. His brows nearly hit his hairline at the lusty female wail rolled through the speakers straight into his brain. Scanning through the visual feeds, he narrowed the options to only one room: the other bedroom. The one he'd banned himself from watching unless some manner of trouble arose. The one _she_ slept in.

John groaned. She wasn't usually so loud, a mercy that had kept him slightly sane. After the first few days assigned to monitoring the asset's home, he'd stopped checking the video on her room unless there was specific cause for worry. He told himself it was out of respect. Didn't want to pry into her personal life unnecessarily. A lady should have privacy unless she faced immediate mortal peril. Shouldn't have government eyes watching her in those moments she thought she was alone. Sleeping peacefully with the sheet draped haphazardly across her bare hip. Slipping off her lacy undergarments when she changed clothing.

At the memories from those first few nights of surveillance, heavy coils of pure want spiraled up from his groin, shot through his abdomen and wrapped themselves tightly around his chest. He'd told himself it was the right thing to do, but really, when he was being honest with himself and his scotch, he knew it was a matter of self-preservation. The sights and throaty sounds of her in bed with the jock-doc caused too many conflicting urges that came with too many consequences.

Like the overwhelming urge to storm in, rip Pretty-Boy off of her and impale himself so deep and full within her that she'd throw her head back and wrap those long sexy legs around him and beg him for more and more and more and oh god never stop! The doc could watch. Or not, it didn't matter and John wouldn't care. In fact, she might even like having him watch John give her what she so obviously needed, might add a little spice to the mix, or give him a clue at least.

Except that scenario would not only blow his cover and expose the operation, it would force his reassignment. Assuming his career survived the reprimand. Given the Intersect's vital role in national security, that likelihood was probably a negative. He'd be shipped off to max-security to spend the rest of his days not dropping the soap, and she'd spend the rest of hers trying to explain to her man that no, she wasn't thinking about that night, and no she hadn't really enjoyed it, and no she didn't crave it again so bad she could taste it.

Worse, he'd never see her again, never touch her again. He'd never touched her, anyway. Too many risks, too much standing between him and her to ever give in to his growing need to lay his hands all over her. If he ever dared give in, it wouldn't be a mere question of no going back. He'd never let go. Never give her up, not for love nor money nor country. That knowledge rocked him to his core. How the hell had one woman, whom he'd never even touched, have gotten such power over him?

She'd slipped into his psyche with the scent of gardenia and feminine musk, and the taste of Sunday dinner and an always-welcoming smile. He knew she was a gracious host, a gracious woman, but somehow the pleasantries of being a neighbor had tilted toward deeper, more forbidden directions in his mind.

There were times – helping her clean up after dinner, when she'd pass him on Saturday as he washed his car – when her smile seemed to hold more than friendly warmth. Her eyes seemed to delve into him, telling him… asking him… begging him for… something. He couldn't afford to explore those questions, and kept his sanity by telling himself he was imagining those searching looks.

Another howl of pleasure spiked through the headset, bringing the vivid reminder of how he'd fallen prey to her. Without thinking about it, he slid his hand to his now full-attention erection and stroked himself in time to her gasping breaths.

She was pleasuring herself again. He didn't need to turn on the visual – would not turn on the visual – God help him if he turned on the visual – to know how she looked, how she had herself displayed.

John let a feral growl rise up from his chest. The first time he knew her secret was the same night he vowed to never, ever watch the video feed without specific, security-related cause again. A lush, womanly moan had worked its sorcery across his body as he watched her, and he'd damned near had to cuff himself to the chair to keep from bolting across the courtyard and laying claim to her for himself.

"Fuck, Ellie, you're gonna kill me dead, woman!" He hissed the words as he slid the waistband of his boxers down his legs and kicked them off. Tracing his fingertips down the iron-hard shaft between his legs, he braced one arm against the wall, merely listening and fighting the losing battle against his memory.

He had stumbled onto the video feed that night just after she'd started.

_The hum of her plain white vibrator buzzed in his brain from somewhere, but took back seat to the image of Ellie's long, sultry legs stretched out and spread sweetly on the bed. Around each pretty little ankle, heaven help him, was a soft, black leather strap with a delicate silver buckle on the outer side. A thin silver chain looped through a simple ring on each one, trailing down to latch against the sturdy footboard. The image had damned near brought him to his knees._

_Following the lines of her legs up past slightly parted thighs, he was stunned to find the source of the humming sound. The black leather strapping wrapped high around her thighs and waist, secured the device deep within her wet folds. She was already starting to feel the effects on her softest, silkiest flesh, her breath starting to catch and come faster as she knotted a length of white satin around her eyes and laid back. Stretching her arms to the headboard, she unknowingly treated him to a mind-numbing view of her full, luscious breasts, the rose-peaked nipples hard and straining up into the air as if seeking out his mouth._

_Near to bursting, he had watched with slackened jaw as she quickly and expertly fastened the fur-lined black cuff around one slender wrist. She had obviously done this before, and had planned it out, having the silver chain already wrapped around a thick spoke in the center of the decorative headboard. The matching cuff lay attached to the chain. _

_As she latched the lock with a faint 'snick' and sighed back against the white pillows, he noticed the glimmering item hanging from a chain on her pinky. The key. Smart girl, he laughed out loud, only then sparing a thought to wonder where the awesome-boy was. She'd certainly gone to a lot of planning with this tasty treat, it would be a shame to miss it._

_It was only after her third orgasm, after John's second, as he was cleaning the hot, slick fluid from himself with a satisfied grin, that the realization hit him in the face. She was slipping the key into the lock, removing the cuffs and the strapping, switching her pleasure toy to the off position. And she was smiling. Checking his notes for the day, John realized Devon was working, knew the doc would be all night at the hospital with an early a.m. procedure. _

_This had been all for her._

_She'd taken this pleasure, set up this whole fantasy, for her own gratification. And awesome-boy wasn't part of that fantasy. The knowledge broadsided him, forcing him to drop hard against the back of the recliner. He knew he couldn't go through this again, not just watch her perfect body writhe and arch, hear her breathy cries of 'more please more now oh god I need it harder', not without answering the plea. He couldn't completely resist – the audio was nearly enough to make him come where he stood – but he didn't trust himself to ever watch her take that pleasure again. He hadn't watched since._

Her tone shifted in his ears. She was working up to an intense orgasm, one of the long, slow-burning, devastatingly deep climaxes he so loved to hear her enjoy. Resting his head against forearm, he let her voice, her moans and whispered begging slip down into him as he stroked himself slow and firm. Imagined her imagining his body over hers, both of them covered with the sheen of sweat from a good long ride as he slowly thrust deep into her.

_Oh, yeah, that's it girl_. He let his ragged breath join hers. _Come for me, Ellie. Let me hear you come just for _me_. Come for John, now, just let go…_

"Oooh… yesss…" her whisper sang to him.

_That's the way, honey, do it for John…_

"Mmmmm, I'm gonna come so hard for you…"

_Let me hear you, baby…_

"Want you in me so bad…"

_Oh, and I wanna give it to you just like you need it…_

"Feel you fill me up…"

"Big John's gonna fill you all the way up, girl…"

"Aahhh… aahhh… aaahhh…"

"Come now, Ellie, come now for John…"

"Aaaaahhhh… oh god, oh god, oh yes Johnnnnn!"

His eyes flew open the second he erupted, letting his body crash against the wall in disbelief as the tremors racked him.

_She hadn't. She didn't. She couldn't have._

"Ummmm… " her satisfied groan penetrated his shattered thoughts. "Yes, just like that, John. You always know just what I need."

Sliding his back down the wall, his first coherent thought was… well, his fourth coherent thought was of the logical, the practical, the necessary. It was gonna kill him, now that he'd heard her moan for _him_ in her deepest moment of desire. But that's exactly why it had to be done.

Scrubbing his hands down his face, he bitterly cursed the asset, the Intersect, Bryce-fuckin'-Larkin and fate itself. How kick-in-the-ass ironic: the very job that let him find her was the same damned job that prevented him from ever having her. The knowing that she ached for him prevented him from going to her.

Even years of discipline could only control a man so long, and after hearing his name on her lips as she fell deep into ecstasy, he knew he'd never be able to stay. Never be able to leave her alone now, not with her this close, not with her just across the courtyard. Not even in the same hemisphere, most likely. Only a fool would lie to himself, and though he'd been called several things, fool was not one of them.

He reached to slide the headset off, break the connection with her, start the slow, agonizing process of weaning himself completely from her. He'd had to self-cauterize a wound once, out in the field when it was bleed to death or be shot to death, whichever came first. No anesthetic, just a hot Sterno fire and his K-Bar laid on his open flesh as he howled against the pain. Necessary. Excruciating, but necessary. If it would have made a difference, he'd have chosen the K-Bar again rather than what he feared lay ahead.

Halting his hands on the headset, his body suddenly stilled, slipping into fighting mode. Her breathless cries of delight had turned sharp, almost panicked now. Fear and anger coursed through him at her now-frantic litany of "no, no, no, oh please, no!"

Diving for the video surveillance switch, he steeled himself as the image formed. She was still bound, writhing, not in pleasure now but in seeming desperation. Thrashing her head side to side, she strained against the wrist cuffs as she begged.

"No, this can't happen, this isn't happening, oh god _no_!"

The terror in her voice gripped him hard. Rushing up the stairs three at a time, he yanked open the dresser and grabbed the first thing he could reach. He flew back down the stairs, slowing only to jam his legs into the dark sweatpants and to grab his sidearm, before rushing out the door to her.

.*.*.

To be continued…..


	3. Chapter 3

Of Angels and Demons~ Chapter Three  
Author: Brandywine00  
Rating: NC-18/Mature Explicit~ADULTS ONLY! I MEAN IT!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Written for the Jellie_Shippers LJ Birthday Challenge. Hope y'all enjoy. Blame it on the Evil Kink Plot Bunny. Special thanks to BigBadJayne for excellent beta and assistance with this story! ;D

.*.*.

John slid silently into the darkness of the asset's bedroom, SIG-Sauer drawn and safety off, ready to fire at whatever was threatening Ellie. Her near-hysterical cries echoed through the apartment, ripped at his heart, urged him to charge in to her aid. Only years of extensive training and survival kept him from rushing headfirst into the unknown situation.

Softly pulling the unlocked window closed, he crept on soundless bare feet across the carpet to the door leading into the rest of the house. The door hinge creaked faintly, but not loud enough to alert whomever was out there. He crouched low, sliding fast and quiet along the wall toward her room.

Her bedroom door was locked, logical for the privacy required by her special brand of alone time. Of course, someone could have slipped in and locked it afterward, his suspicions countered. Unsure of how volatile the situation was on the other side, he made the split-second call to keep advantage of surprise.

John hurried to the kitchen. On the top cabinet shelf, he found the skeleton key kept for just such emergencies, though the contractors probably hadn't imagined this particular scenario when they installed the locks. With a quick jimmy of the lock, he cracked the door and visually swept the room as far as he could. No one else was visible from this vantage point.

Swinging the door open wide to hit anyone who may be hiding behind it, he found no sign of an intruder. Ellie lay twitching on the bed, moaning in what now appeared to be agony. In seconds, he discovered the source of her dismay.

Laying innocently beside the creamy, smooth curve of her naked breast, far from her bound hand, was the small, shiny key.

John's body shook violently as he braced against the door. The adrenaline coursing through him hard and furious banked sharply and redirected itself south as the naked truth pumped into his brain. He was alone with her. With her immaculate body mere steps away, spread out like an offering to his darkest lusts. With no one to tell him no. With no one to stop him. With the raw, potent knowledge that she wanted him hammering through his brain.

The highly-trained, combat-tested government assassin quaked with that knowing.

.*.*.

"No! No, nononono, oh please no!" Ellie whispered, completely mortified. This was not happening, was NOT happening, could not happen.

She'd just had perhaps the fiercest orgasm of her life, brought on by the wonderful battery-assisted fantasy she'd crafted. But as her body tried to recover from the onslaught of sensation, she'd felt herself jerk just a bit too hard. And the wonderfully satisfying situation had tilted horribly into the realm of disaster.

The earlier friendly get-together had refueled the need for her 'special time'. John Casey's birthday party had gone smoothly, provided a nice evening with friends, and a bit more, though she tried hard not to admit it to herself.

She told herself it was just a nice thing to do for a man who didn't have family close by, didn't seem to have many friends or much of a social life. Told herself firmly that it wasn't an excuse to have his presence in the room. Wasn't a concocted opportunity just for a chance to feel his large, steady hand brush against hers as he helped set the table. Was not a reason to let the shiver run up her back when he spoke in those deep, smoky tones or when his brilliant blue eyes looked right into her as he thanked her for the cobbler she made especially for him.

Absolutely, it was not an invitation to feel the delicious electricity running from her nape to the backs of her thighs when he leaned lightly up against her, his strong, masculine presence stopping the breath from her suddenly tight throat. If that large, bulging arm grazed the length of hers as he reached around her, politely placing his glass in the dishwasher, she told herself it was purely innocent. The gooseflesh tingling across her skin had nothing to do with the clean, slightly dangerous scent of pure maleness that flooded her, nor did the sudden heat between her thighs as another apparently well-developed part of him inadvertently brushed against her hip.

But later, as she heard the faint click securing the cuffs around her wrists, she knew whose face, whose magnificent body, whose intensely dominating blue eyes would be waiting for her behind the blindfold.

She'd never voiced that knowledge, not even silently to herself, but she knew. She'd known for some time now. To name it would be to admit it, even though she hadn't physically gone to him in her need for his serious, firm personality. And good girls didn't cheat. Even if they were repeatedly denied the very thing, the only thing that could fulfill them.

_Good girls didn't engage in masturbatory bondage, either_, that part of her psyche shot back.

Ellie tried to think her way out of this awful situation, coming up blank. There was no way out of the cuffs without the key, which now lay somewhere on the bed out of reach. She tried not to think of what Devon would say when he came home and found her like this, naked and strapped down, her vibrator humming away within her. Even if he could be convinced she'd willingly placed herself in the bonds, he'd never understand what drove her need to do such a thing.

Ellie's heart lurched, dreading the confrontation she knew had been coming for a while. The last few months had brought an epiphany about their relationship, about her own nature. Devon was… well, the guy was awesome, no argument. Smart, handsome, well-built, daring, kind and considerate to all. Everything she was supposed to want, and on some levels she did.

But lately, that deeper, insistent part of her kept forcing her choice under the microscope for examination. And the prognosis kept coming up terminal. Devon may be a good-looking adventure-sports cardiologist, but unless he could meet her most innate needs, neither of them could truly be happy. Pretending would only draw out the misery.

Ellie groaned in frustration as she tugged against the chains again. The thoughts weren't new, but lately they'd grown more insistent. How would she ever tell him? Or should she just hand him his freedom and say nothing? He'd never just let it slide, he would demand – _no, not dear, sweet Devon, would never demand_ – he would beg for a reason, his open, trusting eyes tearing up as he searched for something to help him understand.

_Best to get it over and done_, came the whisper from within. _Pull the bandaid, make it quick. You know it has to happen. Unfair to expect him to be what he's not. He can't be what you need him to be. Let him be free, too…_

She knew deep down that goodbye was inevitable, she just never imagined it would be under this scenario. But she had several hours to worry on that problem. Right now another, entirely too-immediate dilemma was beginning to demand remedy.

Every inch of her being had lit up from the intense stimulus. But now, her body needed to recover from the extreme sexual high. And the damned vibrator was still buzzing away, sending shockwaves through her already hypersensitive system, with no way to turn it off.

Ellie groaned, as her nerves reacting to the overload. Her body responded automatically, forcing her hips and torso up as they tried in vain to move away from the source of growing discomfort. Moans grew to cries, then became shrieks.

Some distant, proper part of her mind admonished her to quell the noise, or risk alerting the neighbors. Bad enough for Devon, or God forbid, Chuck, to find her in this position. She'd die of sheer embarrassment if the first person to see her was a police officer.

A few minutes later, she was past the point of caring.

.*.*.

_Fuck!_

John gripped the doorknob as he struggled to keep his legs under him. The musky-sweet aroma of her pleasure hung heavy in the air, flooding his senses with each shaky inhale he took, battering his resolve as he fought to come down from combat mode.

She had become still when the door had swung open, no doubt feeling the rush of air caress her sensitized skin, or hearing the labored sounds of his breathing. Those pert breasts – _perfectly sized to fit within his cupped hands_ – rose and fell with her own quick, shallow breaths, the dusky rose-tipped peaks as hard as his own flesh had become.

Using every control technique he'd ever learned over the years, John forced his legs to ease across the room, despite the near overwhelming urge to rush the bed and claim her.

"Please," she whispered, turning her head in his direction.

_Oh, I aim to do just that_, the primal side of him roared to life, but he clamped his jaws tight to keep the words from spilling out.

Placing one knee on the bed between her shapely, parted legs, he leaned over her without touching, bracing himself with a stiff arm beside her torso. With irrationally steady fingers, he picked up the key, the hairs on back of his hand brushing the delicate undercurve of her breast. Wrapping the chain around his index finger, he let the silver object dangle and watched it glitter faintly in the dim light.

"I…I can explain – " she said in a small, shaky voice.

"Shh, shh, shh," he hushed her with the finger laid against her trembling lips with the barest of contact. The thin length of silver draped across her quivering chin, bringing the key to rest against the fluttering pulse point of her graceful throat. "No need to explain," he breathed low near her ear, sharing the visible tremor that ran through her body. "Don't apologize for what you want, Ellie."

_This has to stop! A_ remnant of reason cried feebly through the crimson haze of his mind. _You cannot do this, John. Too many consequences. No coming back from this._

_Go to hell! _Roared the demon lust within him, riding hard on the crest of pheromones and his fantasy-come-to-life mere inches beneath him. _I want her she wants me end of story!_

_She's not yours. _He inhaled deeply along her long neck, the gardenia-and-woman scent of her shoving reason further back into the darkness as she shivered at the sensation. Ghosting down her body, trailing the chain behind, his fingers swiftly unfastened the buckle of the harness around her hips and eased the contraption down her thighs.A fresh wave of sex assaulted him as the vibrator slid out of her slick depths. _Can't be yours. Not like you need._

_She'll _be_ mine in just a moment, if you'll just shut the fuck up! _The demon hissed.

_Not completely. _

Frustration clawed its way up from his throat into a growl. His hand, cupped and reaching toward her primed core, stilled as reason's valid point crept through the throbbing drive of conquest.

_Won't be enough for you, not just pieces. You need all of her. You need every bit. All yours. Only yours. Anything less will never be enough for you._

"Thank you," Ellie's whisper broke through to him. "For… taking that off. Um, for…"

"My pleasure," he drawled, bringing the now trembling hand to her face. He allowed himself to touch her lips, tracing the fullness, feeling the coolness of the air rushing against them when she gasped the touch. "You seem to be missing something."

She stiffened. "W-what do you mean?"

John ground his teeth as her movement raised her firm naked breasts up to brush his bare chest. "Ellie!" he growled to warn her. "Don't move again, woman."

"Are you… " she shuddered as he drew the key along her raised bound arm, "what are… what are you going to do?"

"Hmmmmm," he drew out a sigh, toying with the fur-lined edge of the cuff on that arm. "Given the situation, I'd say I could do. Any. Thing. I. Want. Wouldn't you say that's true?"

Her lips worked silently.

"What do you _want_ me to do, Ellie?" he rasped against her ear. "What did you really want when you stripped your body bare and slid the vibrator between your legs? When you blindfolded yourself, when you bound yourself to this bed?"

Her breath came fast and hard at his words.

"Who did you want to find you like this? Aroused. Waiting. Willing…"

Her chest fluttered as she took a ragged breath, turning her head toward the sound of his voice.

"I know what you wanted, Ellie," he murmured sympathetically. "I know what you need. Crave. But I can't give it to you. Not like this."

"What do you m-mean?" An enticing flush crept up her neck. "You said… you said I shouldn't apologize for what I want."

"And I meant it." He allowed himself a brief, soft brush of his lips across hers before gently wrapping the keychain around her finger. "But I don't want you like this. Not just stumbled upon with another man's claim still on you. When I take you, Eleanor… when I make you mine…"

He slowly raised the silken blindfold, nearly undone by the want that met him in those wide, smoky eyes. Letting all his desire pour into her through his intense stare, he held himself over her on both arms. "When I claim you, it will be because you came to me willingly, knowing without doubt who you came to. I'll be the one to wrap the leather around your ankles, to spread your legs wide and take you without reservation. Because you came to _me_ for that. When I make you my woman, you'll be all mine. No other to rush home to, no sneaking, no hiding. _Mine_. O_nly_ mine."

He captured her mouth with his own for a kiss that was as possessive and demanding as it was brief.

"But you'd best make sure," he rumbled in soft tones, resting his forehead lightly on hers. "Be absolutely certain I'm what you want, Ellie. Because I play for keeps."

Pushing himself up from her, he picked up his sidearm from the foot of the bed, noticing her surprised but not alarmed expression as he tucked the piece into the back of his sweatpants. She lay there, stunned from the exchange, but with a faint glow spreading across her body. She'd made no move to remove the cuffs yet.

John backed out the door and down the hallway before all control deserted him.

.*.*.

The gas gauge leaned on 'E' as John steered the Vic down another back road.

He hadn't dared trust his limits enough to cool down with a cold shower, instead throwing on a pair of worn jeans and old Corps T-shirt, and jumping in the car to drive the night out of his system. Hours of prowling the roadways hadn't erased the insistent pull to return to her, a draw so strong he didn't dare come within ten miles of the apartment complex until he knew she wouldn't be alone.

_Never going to happen_, whispered his need. _Can't drive her out of you._ _Won't ever get free of wanting her._

His eyes strayed on their own to the signs at the next intersection. A few turns and he could be home.

_Shut up and drive_.

A few minutes and she could be his.

_Shut up and drive._

Turning the Vic away from the apartment, he headed down the stretch of two-lane highway along the ocean, leaving the lights of the city – _and her_ – farther behind.

Frail pink had given way to burning orange and red against the cloudless skies before John pulled the Vic into his parking space at the complex. A wash of relief was stabbed by sudden anger as he recognized the jock-doc's vehicle in its customary spot.

Walking fast through the courtyard, he kept his eyes from seeking out her door on his way to his apartment. He tamped down the hot, uncivilized thoughts that sprung up as his mind imagined Devon finding her as he had earlier, but was unable to quell the memory of her body beneath his, arching up in need and desire.

_For you, or for him?_ The question twisted itself around his gut. He shoved it aside, along the unwanted aggression it dragged behind.

Intent on getting to his own door without turning to hers, he didn't see the small manila envelope on his doorstep until he nearly stepped on it. Instinct kicked in as he scanned the perimeter before bending to inspect the piece. The handwriting bearing one word, '_John_', relieved his concerns, but sent his blood racing. He quickly retrieved the envelope, unlocked his door and slipped inside to the sanctuary of his apartment.

Bracing his back to the door, John brought the paper to his face, both reveling in and dreading the trace gardenia scent it carried. Shaking fingers slid under the seal and retrieved the plain sheet of stationery, with a message written in her script.

"You were right. Keep this safe. When you receive its mate, come claim what belongs to you."

Tipping the envelope into his palm, he held the contents up to the dawn light now flooding through his window. His chest tightened as the first rays of the day reflected off the small, silver key.

.*.*.

To Be Continued...

Reviews appreciated ;D


	4. Chapter 4

Waiting ~ Chapter Four  
Author: Brandywine00  
Rating: NC-18/Mature Explicit~ADULTS ONLY! I MEAN IT!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Written for the Jellie_Shippers LJ Birthday Challenge. Hope y'all enjoy. Blame it on the Evil Kink Plot Bunny. Special thanks to BigBadJayne for excellent beta and assistance throughout this story! ;D

.*.*.

Staying away from her had taken nearly the last shred of discipline he possessed, but John knew Ellie needed time to clear her head.

He didn't want to rush her into anything, only to have her second guessing when, or if, she came to him. Didn't want a single doubt that what he hoped would be between them was merely a rebound or wild fling.

He honestly hadn't known what to expect from her as he fled back to his apartment and grabbed his keys, intent on putting as much distance as he could between them that night. Not trusting himself to stay just across the complex from her, he'd driven with his longing and his lust and his guilt and his doubt, cursing at each of them in turn, stopping only long enough to fill up the tank on the Vic.

The first two emotions he figured he had no choice in. How could he not want her? How could he ever look at his ideal woman and not desire her?

Even before he'd stumbled across her secret, the stirring had been there. He felt it deep within him, hidden somewhere between his groin that grew rock solid at the sight of her beautiful body and his chest that swelled up lighter than air each time she cast her dazzling smile his direction.

The other two, though, were a different matter. The guilt and doubt had wrestled with him down every mile, and back again the entire way home.

He had struggled with them as they ambushed him daily throughout the two months since he'd chosen the relative high-road and backed away from what he wanted so desperately to do that night.

_Not your fault. You didn't cause this, John._

"Why does it feel like it?"

_You didn't force her to want what something she couldn't have with him. Those desires were all hers._

"They were fine before…"

_You don't know that. Don't know how long she'd been strapping herself down, seeking out her pleasure from fantasy._

"Guarantee she didn't moan my name before she met me!"

_Would've been some other lucky sonofabitch…_

"Shut up."

_Some other man taking his place in her life…_

"Shut the hell up!"

_Claiming his place inside her…_

"I said shut the _fuck_ up!"

…_heart… inside her heart. My, my, aren't we touchy! Folks are gonna talk, you get all defensive like this._

It was the concern of that talk, and the unwelcomed attention that talk would bring, that helped him clamp down on the foolish, impetuous notions running through his brain. He had to be careful to maintain his cover, not just for any Ring operatives that may stroll into the Buy More.

He had to fool the people who now knew him best. The asset, his partner and coworkers at his cover job.

He'd nearly blown it those first days between _That Night_, as he'd come to term it in his mind, and _That Day_, when Ellie had ended things with Woodcomb. The hollowness in his ribcage, the spike of pain in his gut and the nearly constant throbbing in his temples had tortured him through his waking hours and tormented him across the unending dark hours when he should have been sleeping.

That first day had been the worst. The sweet woman-scent of her still wrapped itself around his sleep-starved memory. The image of her, bared and stimulated and waiting, was still fresh and crisp in his mind's eye. Before _That Night_, he would have laid good money that either of those delicious temptations would have been the one to break him. Not so.

_John…_

Her tremulous voice, breathy and sated by pleasure, infused itself into every cell in his body, laid in wait for him at every turn.

_John…_

As the water beat into his back and shoulders in the morning.

_John…_

As he gripped the wheel in traffic and the asset rattled on.

_John…_

As he warily scanned the store for threats, both to national security and the company's profits.

"John..."

As he leaned heavily against the vending machine, waiting for a candy bar to drop.

"John!"

As he smacked the damned machine, the bar stuck precariously between the shelf and the plexiglass.

"John! I'm _talkin'_ to you, son!"

He spun around to face Big Mike, feeling his face grow red, realizing he'd been so intent on his own thoughts he'd let his guard slip.

"You must be starved, big guy! Anyways, get your lunch ate and get out to the dock…truck's here. Need those washers and dryers on the floor before you leave. Big sale starts tomorrow…"

Big Mike had been easy enough to brush off. The asset and his partner, they knew him too well. Neither had really mentioned a word, but he'd caught them sharing several questioning glances, studying the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Walker had called him on his surlier-than-usual attitude and had later conveniently 'forgotten' a box of chamomile tea near his back pack. The sleepy bunny on the box promised a relaxed, restful night.

But it had been the burnout, the one who no one thought noticed life around him, that made John realize he had to get a grip on himself fast.

"Woman troubles," Jeff Barnes had announced without preamble, clamping an ill-advised paw on John's shoulder and nodding sagely. "Can't let the skirt get ya down, man. Stay strong."

Granted, Barnes had ambled out of the break room and hadn't mentioned it since. But if _he'd_ noticed, surely every other sentient being on the West Coast would be able to deduce the source of John's woes. And that just wouldn't do.

For all the guff he gave them, he knew Chuck and Sarah were both too damned observant to not see the wreck he was about to become if he allowed it. That would lead to questions. Which would lead to revelations. Which would lead to a one-way transfer out of Team Bartowski. Out of Ellie's life. And John knew now that he could never allow that to happen.

A week waiting for the woman who owned his heart to show where she stood had nearly crippled him. But as he'd watched the orange and white moving van grow smaller and disappear down the street, John had felt a renewed strength rolling up from his core.

He could wait.

She was worth waiting for.

It nearly ended him, but he'd been patient. Given her room. Kept his distance.

He had almost come to believe she had decided against him. Two months had passed since she'd sent him the envelope with the key and fanned the hope that she might truly want him as much as he wanted her.

Eight and a half weeks he had kept up the exhausting pretense that nothing was out of sorts in his world. Sixty and a half days of trying to seem like he wasn't walking around with his heart shredded and nearly hanging out of his chest while he waited for her to make up her mind. To show him some sign that he shouldn't just give up and head back to Washington, let someone else cover the Intersect's ass while he lost himself in several bottles of Scotland's finest.

John kept his senses alert as always while he crossed the enclosed courtyard after his shift at the Buy More. His gaze flickered around the rooftops and the landscaping for signs of danger. _Signs of her, _he admitted as well, his gaze lingering a bit longer on her doorway. She would be at the medical center about now, halfway through her shift.

His throat tightened when his eyes landed on the bit of cream colored parchment leaning against his door. Still wary, he checked the envelope for signs of trip wires, finding none. No writing marred the perfectly clean surface of the heavy vellum, but a hint of gardenia spoke volumes. With unsteady fingers, he picked it up and stood staring at it for several long minutes.

He didn't presume to know the contents. She may have decided in the long stretch of days that she wasn't ready for a new relationship. Or that she didn't truly want one with him. After all, what did she know about him, other than the cover lies he'd been forced to feed her.

Now that she had found the courage to end an unfulfilling relationship, she may have found the taste of freedom to her liking. The envelope in his hands could just as likely hold a 'no-thank you, goodbye' as anything else.

Calming his breathing, he braced himself and unlocked the door, closing it slowly behind him.

John laid the envelope on the table and walked up to his bedroom to change into something other than the green shirt he loathed. Pulling on a pair of old denims and a faded blue T-shirt, he secured the pistol and eyes-only files from the backpack in a hidden safe.

Back downstairs, he checked to make sure the door was locked, retrieved a half-gone bottle of scotch and glass, and sat down at the table with a sigh. Running long fingers across his face, he could feel the evening whiskers starting to emerge as the standard-sized envelope continued to stare him down. Pouring three fingers of the amber liquid into his glass, he took a slow bracing mouthful. He let the warmth ease down the back of his throat before setting the glass back, blew out a slow breath and reached for whatever future the envelope held for him.

.*.*.

The cool night air reached through the open window to caress her skin, blowing tendrils of unbound chestnut hair across her face as Ellie drove down the nearly empty highway.

The rapid beating in her chest somehow couldn't overshadow the calmness that settled itself around her. Out here, the only light came from the headlights, the glow of the dash and the intermittent flashes of light in the offshore clouds. Ellie leaned her head back against the seat, letting the rush of tires against faded asphalt provide the soundtrack to her thoughts.

The past two months had been nearly the most difficult of her life. Only dealing with the abandonment by her mother, and her father's later disappearance, had been harder on her than letting go of Devon and the comfortable predictability of their relationship.

It had taken her a solid week to garner the courage to do it, a week filled with doubts and regrets and longings and a no small amount of guilt on her part. But the guilt Ellie knew she'd feel if she kept pretending to be happy, if she allowed things to progress, only to break years later – after they were married, after children were involved – that guilt wouldn't eat at her slowly. It would consume her whole.

To his credit, Devon had taken the split better than she'd expected, reinforcing her growing suspicion that he had realized the same thing she had. He'd put up the prerequisite 'we can make things work' argument, but they'd both known it for what it was. They'd been a couple for too long to 'just throw in the towel', but neither of them really thought 'things can be different, we can change.'

Three hours and two tear-streaked faces later, he'd nodded his head and hugged her, wishing her happiness and ready to move toward his own.

A tiny part of her wished he would have fought harder to convince her otherwise, but the break wouldn't have been needed if he'd had that in him. He admitted he too had realized their lives were heading down divergent paths, had been for some time now. That the similarities holding them together had faded over time. That neither could be what the other truly needed.

Their goodbye had been painful, yet a breath of fresh air to them both. She wasn't surprised when Devon announced later that week that he'd accepted a post in New England, closer to his own family.

Chuck had shaken his head, confused and more than a little stunned at the development.

"Nobody saw this coming, Ell," her brother voiced the sentiment common among their friends and coworkers. "You guys seemed like the perfect couple, y'know? Are you sure you know what you're doing? Sure you're okay?"

Everyone shook their heads and tisked and chalked it up to the unfathomable whims of fate and the fickle nature of love. Most offered sympathetic murmurings and suggestions for getting 'back on the horse', but for her part, Ellie had never felt so liberated in her life. It was a heady rush, to have the freedom of choosing her own destiny. Chuck no longer truly needed her to look after him, and with a simple two-week notice to the hospital, she could be off and headed anywhere in the world she wanted.

Ellie left the highway for a smaller road running parallel to the oceanfront. A brief flash lit the clouds over the Pacific, as the scent of the coming storm blew in across the water.

Through it all, one person had kept a distance.

John Casey had neither rushed over to the apartment the moment Devon started loading up the rental van, nor had he shown up after the van pulled onto the eastbound lanes of the freeway. In fact, Ellie had barely caught sight of him since those brief moments when he held her fate quite literally in his hands.

She'd only had the barest hints of his presence. He was a large shadow, glimpsed as he swiftly entered his abode. A searing blue glance searching her face as their vehicles passed on the roadway near the apartment complex. A trace of masculine scent as she left for work and heard his door latch closed, telling her he'd passed through the same archway just moments before. A faint echo of a deep voice as he briefly answered Chuck's greeting on their way to carpool to work.

It was only when she closed her eyes that she could pull the pieces together, have him as a whole.

He'd owned her dreams since that first night. Of late, Ellie admitted his large, strong form haunted her waking hours as well. Her memories of him had only intensified in the interim, clearly remembering the broad span of his shoulders covering her body. His long, powerful legs carrying him across the room to her. Thickly corded arms that held him above her, waiting for her word. Waiting for her acceptance. Waiting to claim her completely.

Ellie steered the car into the driveway of an unlit house along the beach, thankful again that her friend Trisha had offered the use of it while on vacation. Only one other person knew she'd be here this weekend. As Ellie spotted the open garage, she felt her pulse begin to flutter in anticipation and pulled her car into the spot beside the black Crown Vic.

.*.*.

To Be Continued...

Reviews are appreciated ;D


	5. Chapter 5

Admissions ~ Chapter Five  
Author: Brandywine00  
Rating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! I MEAN IT!  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Written for the Jellie_Shippers LJ Birthday Challenge. Hope y'all enjoy. Blame it on the Evil Kink Plot Bunny. Special thanks to BigBadJayne for his most excellent beta and assistance throughout this story! You're Aces (in Spades), Big Guy! ;D

.*.*.

The faint hint of sweet smoke drifted on the ocean breeze as Ellie tentatively opened the door of the beach house.

A single table lamp cast low light through the unoccupied living room, but the sound of crashing waves drew her on through the kitchen, to the open back door. Stepping lightly onto the weathered planks of the deck, Ellie thought to find him in one of the two Adirondack lounge chairs. The deck was empty, except for the lingering scent of tobacco and the light chill breeze flowing off the dark waves. Her eyes scanned the moonlit sand.

He wasn't here.

Heart sinking a notch, Ellie forced herself to remember his car was parked next to hers in the garage. He was here. He hadn't changed his mind. He _had_ to be here.

Before she could turn to call out his name, a pair of large, warm hands slid up her bare arms, gently pulling her back against a solid wall of man.

"I'm glad you came," he breathed low into her ear, sending shivers of delight down her back and legs. "I thought maybe you had second thoughts."

"No," she whispered. "I just needed to get things clear in my head first."

"Hmm," John murmured, softly kissing the tender spot of her neck just behind her ear. "And did you get everything clear? Are you sure this is where you want to be?"

Ellie turned her head toward his voice as his hand slid to her stomach, gently pressing her body closer to his. "I'm certain, John. This is where I want to be."

His free hand gently cupped her jaw, angling her face up to his while the thumb of his other hand stroked lightly across the thin cotton covering her taut belly. Ellie felt her lashes drift closed as his lips brushed against hers, chastely, before descending upon her mouth in a soft crush. His tongue sought her invitation, then laid claim to it as her lips parted, granting him entry.

A low groan rumbled through his chest. Ellie felt the vibration along her back at each inch of contact, and she couldn't silence her moan of reply. At her response, his muscles tightened, his kiss deepened, both giving and demanding more from her.

Ellie turned in his embrace to press against him. His fingers wound themselves into her hair as she began to match the thrust and parry of his tongue against hers. His forearm flexed against the small of her back as Ellie felt her legs weaken and she leaned more of her body into his support.

As a white haze drifted in from the corners of her mind, she felt him become still, the softly urgent pillaging of her mouth slowing, until he withdrew. Lingering to suck her bottom lip a moment more, he raised his head from her, never relinquishing the strands of her hair still woven through his long fingers, and stared down into her eyes with an expression she couldn't read.

"Waited a long time for that," she murmured, only a little surprised at how husky her voice had become.

"Hmmm," he nodded almost solemnly, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes. "Waited a long time to do it."

"Well worth it," she sighed, letting her fingers trace the fullness of his mouth. John kissed the pads of her fingers as they drifted across his lips.

"Worth every minute," he added, still keeping his gaze riveted on her own. Something in his deep blue eyes troubled her.

Ellie placed both palms flat on his chest to gain a small measure of separation without actually pushing away from him. The worry hiding behind his searching stare began to feed a doubt in her chest. She never would have tagged John for a 'chase-conquest-retreat' kind of man. But honestly, she'd been in a relationship for so long, she wasn't sure she would have caught the signs unless she'd been looking.

John's troubled expression grew stronger as she studied him. "What's wrong, Ellie?" he asked, brushing a strand of her hair from her cheek with the back of his long fingers. "Something's bothering you."

She sighed, shivering a bit from the touch or the cooling ocean wind that whipped up from the distant storm. "I just…" she said, breaking from his gaze to stare out over the sand. "Are you… I mean, I just want to make sure you… It's not too late if you're having second thoughts. If you've changed –"

Ellie felt quiet laughter work itself up from the depths of his chest.

"Changed my mind?" he asked incredulously. "You're worried _I'm_ having second thoughts?"

Heat flushed her cheeks as she shrugged. "Something's bothering you, I can tell. I just want you to know, it's okay. You know, if you'd rather … If you don't want… I'll understand. It's not too late to –"

John pulled her close to his chest, pressing a kiss on the crown of her head "Ellie, its way past too late," he gruffly whispered against her hair. "It was too late for me the first time I laid eyes on you. Don't you _ever_ think I don't want you."

"Then what is it, John?" She pulled away to peer up at him, leveling him with her best authoritative look. "And don't say it's nothing, because I can see it. There's something you're not telling me."

His troubled eyes scanned across her face for a moment, before he let out a controlled sigh.

"You're right, Ellie. There is something I've kept from you," he admitted warily, brushing his fingertips along the curve of her jaw. "I've wanted to tell you, a hundred times, but wasn't able. There are still so many reasons I shouldn't now, but… I can't see going forward without being honest about it."

Her heart thumped wildly in her tightening chest, a sliver of dread slinking up her neck.

"Please," she whispered brokenly. "John, please, just…"

Squeezing her eyes closed, she braced herself for the worst news she could imagine.

"Just tell me you're not married."

.*.*.

John felt his brows shoot straight up. Not many people could claim to have truly surprised him, not in the past decade or so, but this beautiful woman in his arms had done it.

"Ma- married?" he stuttered, trying to compose himself, too stunned to even laugh at the idea. "No. I'm not. Never married. Unless you count to my job," he added with a wry twist of his mouth.

Ellie let out the breath she'd been holding, a smile starting to form. "I know you've been putting in all kinds of insane overtime for Big Mike, but I have a hard time seeing you married to Buy More. I mean, not that you shouldn't be committed to your job," she said hastily, seeming worried that he might take her words about his cover-job as a slight. "I always believed you should do your best, regardless of what career you're in –"

"Ellie, it's okay."

" – I mean, you're the best electronics salesman I've ever met –"

"That's not what I meant."

" – and I don't want to sound like there's anything wrong with –"

"Ellie."

" – it, although I always pictured a man with your personality in more – "

"_Ellie._"

" – more of a… I don't know, serious… I don't mean your job's not serious… but you seem more like a… cop, or a personal defense trainer, or a security expert or a career – "

"Ellie!"

" – military man," Ellie broke off, her hazel eyes wide and worried. "I just don't want you to think I'm a career elitist, or anything. I don't care about the job, John, I just care about the man."

John laid his finger lightly against her soft lips.

"I know that, Ellie. You see the good in people, see everyone as valuable. I just hope you'll still see some good in me once you know."

"John, whatever it is can't be that bad," she smiled. "You're a good man, I can feel it in you. I've seen some of the worst humanity has to offer in the E.R."

Brushing her hair from her face, he nodded his head toward the shoreline. "C'mere," he said softly. "Walk with me a bit."

He laced his fingers through hers and led her toward the wet sand. The offshore clouds had rolled closer to land, bringing the sharp tang of ozone closer with every flash of lightning.

.~.~.~

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

Introspection and Inspection ~ Chapter Six  
Rating: NC-18/Mature Explicit ~ADULTS ONLY! SMINK warning (SmutKink) Contains consentual D/s.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Special thanks to BigBadJayne for his invaluable help and most excellent beta throughout this series! You Rock, Big Guy! ;D Y'all enjoy!

.*.*.

The first icy drops of rain splattered against John's face as he stared down at her dark hair.

She still hadn't spoken.

Ellie had listened with quiet attention as he put it all on the line. He had wrestled with how to tell her, how much of his real life to share. In the end, though, the answer had been staring at him all along, framed within two smoky gray eyes.

He told her everything. At least, everything that pertained to him and wouldn't compromise national security. Told her what he was. A military-trained, government-ordered operative. A man who had saved lives, and taken lives to save others. Lived his life according to the needs of his country, and admittedly, sometimes according to the whims of politics.

He told her he'd never seen this coming. Never planned on falling for her. Hadn't even thought it possible, that he could find someone who could make him feel this deeply, to want more than just a convenient, temporary affair. Cause him to yearn for someone who wanted a permanent place in his life, and would return that commitment.

She had yet to utter a single word, just kept staring out at the dark waves. Though mere inches separated her back from his pounding chest, the distance felt like a thousand miles. If he lost her now…

The silence between his admission and her response wrapped around his torso, threatening to crush out the breath he was holding. He had waited for her all these long months with a seed of hope. Yet if she couldn't accept the truth about him, if she chose to turn and walk back across the sand and out the door and out of his life forever, he had to accept that. Let her go.

At least he knew how to leave, he thought bitterly. He was a master of detachment and extrication, skilled in abandoning the cover or the alias as protocol or situations dictated. The elements of his job had demanded it so many times over the past twenty years that he couldn't clearly recall them all, but it didn't matter so long as the job got done. Wouldn't be the first time he'd disappeared. But in the back of his mind, in the hidden vulnerable corner he didn't like to admit existed, he knew it would be the time that finally broke him.

As John let himself memorize the lines of her back, committing the shine of her hair and her light floral perfume to memory, the weight of her decision pounded against the back of his head.

.*.*.

"I don't care."

John took a sharp, deep breath to clear his mind of the reverie before she turned to face him, her dark eyes smoldering with intent. The light drizzle of rain caught in her hair, the droplets resting like sparkling jewels against her thick lashes.

"Doesn't change anything," she said, running both palms up the front of his shirt. "I've thought about this a long time, John. You had valid reasons for keeping the truth from me. I can't imagine what that must have cost you all these years. I don't care about the job. I just want to be with you."

With a measured exhale, he slid his arms around her, pulling her to him as her arms slipped around his neck. Resting his forehead against hers, he let himself get lost in those smoky depths for a moment as his heart started again.

"I mean, as long as you're not, you know, a drug kingpin, or selling women into the sex trade or running a Ponzi scheme, or some such."

He threw his head back and laughed at that, a little surprised at the openness of the sound coming out of his own body. How long had it been since he'd let that happen, or since anyone had made him feel that depth of freedom, for that matter.

"Besides," she shrugged sheepishly, "who am I to judge anyone for having secrets? Yours is safe with me, John. Just as I know mine's safe with you."

"You are something special, Eleanor Faye," he told her, dipping down to kiss the raindrops from her lush lips. "Very special. I don't think you even realize."

Pulling back, he captured her gaze and took a deep breath. "I just want you to know… what you were searching for, that night when I found you alone? We don't have to go there, not right away, if you're not comfortable with that. I'm just… thrilled to hold you, know you're with me. All right?"

"All right," she nodded, nibbling the corner of her lip and shivering as the sprinkles turned to a steady light rain. "But what if… what if I do?"

"If you do, we can. Either now, or later, it's up to you. Is that something you want now?"

"Yes," she said, ducking her head shyly. "But… it's just…"

"You can say it, Eleanor. Don't be afraid to ask for what you want. Don't be ashamed for wanting it."

"Yes, I want it," she said firm and clear, meeting his eyes without wavering. "I just… I don't know…I've never… not with anyone else, that is. I mean, I don't know… what to do, exactly."

John smiled, cupping her face in his hands. "That's all right, sweetheart. You don't have to know everything at once, no one does. And we'll go slow. A little at a time, try things you think you'd like, not worry about things you don't. Have you picked a safeword?"

"Safeword?"

"If you start feeling things are getting too far out of control, your safeword is an 'all-stop'. Or 'red' to stop, 'yellow' to slow down or pause for a minute."

"Okay, good" she breathed, relaxing against him again. "That's good. It's only… I'm not sure what I'd like to try, you know, other than the cuffs and blindfold. That's as far as I've taken it, and really, I don't know what else there is."

"Hmmm," he grinned. "Well, there's much, much more, sweetheart. But for now, I think we'll just stick with the basics, a few things we both know you like for starters. We'll talk about a few other ideas I think you might like later. Is that all right with you?"

Ellie nodded with a relieved smile. "That would be good."

"Good. C'mon, let's get inside before we get drowned."

John took her hand and they ran the last few yards back to the beach house as the storm clouds let loose. Heavy raindrops pelted Ellie's dress, plastering the thin cotton to her skin, highlighting the absence of a bra.

Pulling her into the kitchen, John closed the door and leaned her against it. She reached to swipe the rivulets of water running down his face, dripping from his darkened hair. Fascinated by the wetness of his mouth, she started toward him to taste it, but something primal shifted in his eyes. Huge, strong hands pinned her to the door, holding her at arm's length and devouring her with hungry eyes.

Already stiff from the cool air and wet cloth, Ellie's nipples hardened as his predatory gaze raked across her breasts like a physical touch, acknowledging the darker, bullet-shaped buds straining against her nearly translucent clothes.

"Strip."

Ellie shivered at the quiet force in his tone. He'd said it no more loudly than as if making cordial conversation, but she couldn't mistake the firmness under the word for anything less than an order. His eyes were blue fire, confirming that this was a command, one he expected to be carried out without question or delay.

Keeping her eyes locked on his face, Ellie reached around to unzip the back of her summer dress. The motion thrust her now aching nipples further into his view, and they didn't go unnoticed. As she lowered the slide, John reached out to casually trace the taut fabric with his middle finger, letting his nail drag lightly across it. A shudder ran through her body, bringing a wolfish smile to his lips.

Stepping back with appreciative eyes, he licked his lips slowly, watching her peel the drenched cotton from her body like a second skin. The sodden fabric dropped to the floor around her ankles, but Ellie didn't even register the sound. Feeling self-conscious, she wrapped her arms across her chest.

"Stop that," he said firmly, brushing the back of his fingers along her upper arm, adding to the goosebumps already there. "Uncover yourself. Bare yourself to me."

Nodding, she shyly lowered her arms to her sides, feeling more vulnerable than she ever had, more than even that night he'd found her bound in her bed.

"Step forward," he ordered, the marine in his voice strong. "Chin up. Eyes forward. Legs shoulder-width apart. Hands laid flat on the small of your back! Shoulders back. Chest out. Further! Point those guns like you mean to use them, girl!"

A tiny smile curled at the edge of her mouth at the image, but the serious intent on his face forced her to stifle the giggle rising in her throat. John clasped his hands behind his back, standing in front of her and looking her up and down as if she were on military inspection. His sharp eyes took in every detail as he pivoted on his heel and strolled around her.

"Hmmm…yes… yes, this will do very nicely, I think," he mused. "Form's a little civilian, but with a little hard work, I'm sure you'll…eyes forward!"

Ellie snapped her eyes to the front, giving up on trying to follow him as he slowly circled. Every turn around, he stopped to adjust her posture, taking her hand and positioning it correctly, or placing on hand on her lower abdomen and pushing her back into a straighter alignment. Coming around behind her, he slid a hand down the back of her thigh to her knee. "Don't lock up those knees, girl, don't wanna pass out, now. No telling what would happen while you were out."

"I'm not a girl, I'm a grown woman!" she huffed, irritated that he'd called her that twice now. Her irritation turned to a startled gasp as his hand landed smartly on her bare ass cheek.

"A grown woman? You think so?" he scoffed as his hand smoothed across the sting. "Not yet, you're not. You're not a full grown woman until you can prove it to me… _girl_," he let the word curl around in his mouth like a growl, his chest reverberating against the skin of her back as he leaned into her. His thick thigh slid between her legs, nudging them further apart. She adjusted her stance to accommodate, feeling the wetness increase between her legs as his thigh brushed against her aroused lips.

"You are not to cover yourself again, unless I say," he murmured against her ear. "Do you understand?"

She nodded, but he shook his head slightly, dropping to kiss along her shoulder. Ellie sighed, then inhaled sharply when his teeth quickly nipped the juncture of her neck. "Say the words."

"Yes, I understand."

He nipped again, closer to her hairline. "Yes, _what_?"

"Yes…yes, Sir?"

"Mmm," he purred, suckling the lobe of her ear and splaying a large hand against her belly. "Sir… Oh, that's very nice, sounds so damned good coming from your sweet mouth."

"Ahh... thank you… Sir," Ellie offered, getting into the spirit of things. She was surprised by how aroused the roleplay had gotten her, despite never having considered joining the military.

"Think you're gonna like it in 'This Man's Service', girl," he promised, sliding his hands up to cup her breasts. Kneading them lightly, he let the globes rest in his palms as nimble fingers captured and rolled her nipples. Surprising her with a long, firm pinch to each, he pulled a bit harder, holding them taut and a bit away from her body, and it felt like he'd tapped some secret line reaching straight into her groin. "It can be very rewarding, all kinds of new... perks," he tweaked the sensitive buds again, "that I know you're gonna like. Take you places you've only dreamed of."

A lightheadedness over came her, and she felt her knees start to buckle. Trembling, her body rocked slightly front to back as the smooth rumble of his voice rolled over her.

"C'mere," he murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, giving her a long squeeze and running his hand down her arm until their fingers interlaced. "Let's get you warmed up first."

He led her through the dimly-lit house, pushing the door open to the large bath. The lights were off, but several thick candles cast a bright shimmer against the tiles, highlighting the massive claw-foot tub in the corner. Tendrils of steam rose from the light blanket of bubbles, carrying a light, clean fragrance through the room. Next to the tub, on a table in the corner, two glasses sat next to a metal bucket filled with ice and a tall, dark bottle of a wine.

Pulling her to the tub, he steadied her as she stepped one leg then the other into the wonderfully warm water, telling her not to sit just yet. Closing her eyes, she stood there a moment as luxurious bubbles caressed her knees. When she opened them again, he was standing there with her, his body a mix of hard planes and smooth curved muscles. The breath caught in the back of her throat as she let her eyes drink him in, stopped altogether as he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips.

Settling her between his long legs, her back against his chest, he brought his arms around her, holding her for several long moments. Ellie rested her head back against his sturdy shoulder, turning her face into the crook of his neck as he scooped water up over her shoulders.

"Feels good," she hummed against his warm skin, letting the warmth of the water and the heat of the man against her soak the rain's chill from her body. "Feels like…"

She curled into him with a smile, letting her fingertips drift along his chest and neck and arms. Feeling emboldened, she slid her palm further down his stomach, tracing the point of his hips and the tops of his thighs, but almost studiously avoiding the growing hardness against her hip.

"Feels like…?" he pursued, his own hands casually roaming her skin beneath the water.

Ellie looked up at him, struck by how relaxed his body was, yet how fiercely the fire burned in his eyes. "Feels like coming home," she whispered.

"Because you are," he answered roughly, his hand slipping up to the back of her neck as his lips suddenly descended on hers in a kiss that shot a bolt of primal heat to her stomach. His tongue plundered her mouth seeking, demanding response.

"Mine," he growled against her mouth as she moaned. With his hand still holding her neck, he pulled her to lay face to face with him in the water. His other hand roamed down her back, cupping the cheek of her ass and pressing her lower body into his. Two long, strong legs wrapped around hers as his mouth continued its assault on her senses. "Mine."

"Yours," she answered, running her own hands up his back, trying to get even closer. "Yours."

.*.*.

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

Baring ~ Chapter Seven

Rating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! SMINK warning (SmutKink)  
Contains consensual adult Dom/sub context  
Pairing: Ellie Bartowski/John Casey  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.

Special thanks to BigBadJayne for his invaluable help and most excellent beta throughout this series! You Rock, Big Guy! ;D Y'all enjoy!

.*.*.

Candle-glow shined against her damp skin as Ellie perched on the wide, rounded lip of the tub.

He'd truly surprised her. John had wrapped her in a full-body embrace as they explored and reveled in the heated slide of mouths and skin in the warm water. There had been no disguising his desire, the steely evidence pressing smoothly against the soft flesh of her belly.

But rather than rush to fulfill the electric need coursing between them, he'd let his hands and lips drink their fill of her, before gently pushing her away. With hunger in his eyes, undeniable yet restrained, he'd directed her to stand, towel off and slide into a short, silky robe from the vanity.

The deep sapphire-hued garment barely reached her hips, but concealed less than that. John handed her a towel, folded into quarters, as a bit of cushion against the hard, slick surface, and told her to sit on the edge of the tub. She followed his instruction to place her right foot on the opposite ledge, the left balanced along the tub's rim near his head.

It felt so very wanton, so liberating, to sit exposed and spread right at his eye level. A part of her blushed at the view he must have as he reclined in the water, thick muscled arms relaxed against the lip of the tub. As he casually brought a glass of scotch to his lips, his penetrating blue gaze ran over every inch of her skin with appreciation and approval.

"Open the top. Display your beautiful breasts for me," he said, his voice rumbling in the same shade as the amber liquid he savored.

Ellie loosened the belt of the robe a bit, and with slow, deliberate fingers, pulled the edges of the silk to each side, the thicker fabric of the border catching against the curve of her flesh. Something about seeing the creamy swell of her own breasts framed by the darker, opulent fabric made her want to display them even more. Arching her back as far as her balance on the edge would allow, she felt her breath grow faster, lighter, as she thrust the darker peaks out for his view.

His approving smile was half hidden by the curve of the glass as he let the scotch slide down his throat. She could almost feel the heat of his gaze, deliberately caressing up her body, locking onto her own eyes.

"Beautiful," he murmured, setting the empty vessel on the side table without looking. "Such beautiful breasts, such a beautiful girl. But lovely as they are, not quite your finest feature." The back of his fingers stroked the line of her inner thigh, drawing a shuddery gasp from her lips.

"You have such gorgeous legs, Ellie, has anyone ever told you?" he purred, his right hand still causing shivers along her leg, his left reaching up to trace the curve of her calf in front of him. "Hand me the box on the vanity, please."

A warm flush spread through her, despite the slight chill on her damp skin, as she leaned across to retrieve the small burnished wooden chest. He didn't take it from her, but opened the lid as she held it out for him with both hands.

From the box, John pulled out a stoneware cup and a short, thick brush. Ellie watched, fascinated, as he prepared a rich, foamy lather in the cup. Setting it on the table within easy reach, he dipped his hand back into the chest for a silver, ivory-handled razor.

"I first planned to use a straight razor for this, but thought you may be less nervous the first time with a safety razor," he explained, testing the blade lightly against his thumb. "Still sharp as a…" he chuckled, a bit ominously, she thought, "well, as a razor, but… a little less threatening at first, until you totally trust how steady my hands are. You do trust me, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir, I trust you," she breathed, a slight tremor in her voice from both nerves and unexpected excitement at what he was preparing to do to her.

"Good girl," he smiled. The brush spread the rich lather in languorous circles along her leg. Unbidden, she felt her legs widen a bit on their own as the soft, thick bristles reached and breached the juncture of her thighs, painting her most sensitive flesh with the shaving crème. "Because I know you're gonna like this part."

Biting her lip in pleasure, she moaned as John drew the first careful, practiced stroke of the blade along her heated skin. She watched through her lashes as the thin silver blade scraped a slow, neat path through the thick lather.

How the simple act he performed on her could arouse her so deeply stunned the fraction of her awareness that was still able to manage logical though. A thousand times she had made these same movements herself, but never with the same sensual deliberation he used. He drew out the strokes, transforming an ordinary action of grooming into an erotic, tantalizing sensation that sent frissons of pleasure radiating up into her core, through her chest, up the back of her neck.

Hands as steady as a surgeon's –steady as a sniper's – wielded the ivory-handled tool with precision, leaving slick, bare skin in its wake. In continuous, unhurried strokes from ankle to knee to the apex of her thigh, he carefully cleared the crème, leaving the flesh in his wake as smooth as satin. Her whole body shuddered each time he tested that with a soft-as-silk touch of his fingers drawn up to her thigh, his slight frown of concentration followed by a satisfied smirk.

As he reached the tops of her thighs, his knuckles casually grazed the rapidly plumping lips of her nethers. The contact caused her already heightened arousal to spike, and a fresh wave of wetness flushed between her spread legs.

"Hmm," John mused, finishing his handiwork on the one leg. "Looks like I might need more lather here before we're through," he remarked casually, running his index finger lightly from the juncture of her right thigh, through the rich, white foam and across the flesh just below her swollen lips to the other thigh.

Her sharp inhale warned him just in time as she wavered precariously on the edge of the tub. His right hand shot around her hip, splaying against the small of her back to steady her.

"Easy now, girl," he warned, his tone both concerned and reproving. "Don't fall. I still have another whole long, lovely leg to take care of, not to mention the sweet, sweet candy center to attend to."

The images his honey-smooth words conjured sent another jolt of excitement through her, nearly bringing her to climax. With a muffled moan, she gripped the edge of the tub with renewed vigor as he shifted in the water and the blade slid slowly up her left leg.

.*.*.

To Be Continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Bearing ~ Chapter Eight

Rating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! SMINK warning (SmutKink)  
Pairing: Ellie Bartowski/John Casey  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure.  
Special thanks to BigBadJayne for wonderful encouragement, assistance and beta throughout this series! Y'all enjoy!

A/N: Contains explicit adult content, elements of consensual BDSM. Hope y'all enjoy... reviews are manna... please feed the writer! ;D

.*.*.

Ellie peered into the oval mirror on the wall, fingering her hair to make sure it was dry. Running her hands over the silk of the negligee John had left for her, she saw the woman in the reflection blush. The gown, what there was of it, had thin, satiny straps that matched the small satin ties running the length of the front. Its slightly flared hem reaching only to the curve of her buttocks. The silk was so light, it could well have been spun of gossamer and air.

The woman in the glass flushed, her lips and cheeks and breasts pinking at the sight of herself in a gown so sheer it hid nothing. Even the matching thong panties were visible, nearly translucent as well, and doing little to obscure the now clean-shaven flesh of her mound.

With a final check in the mirror, Ellie took a deep breath, and eased through the door to the bedroom.

The light from a dozen candles cast a flickering light on the shape of his back. John stood at the slightly-raised window, legs braced at shoulder width, hands behind his back in what she assumed was the classic 'at-ease' military pose. Even with his back to her, she could see the proud tilt of his chin as he stared out across the storm-tossed waves. Wearing a crisp white shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and dark pants that looked to be leather from this distance, he could easily have been some pirate captain, surveying the squall.

"Did you prepare yourself as I instructed?"

"Yes, I did, Sir," she answered, wishing he'd look at her, wanting to see if she affected him even half as much as he drew a response from her.

"Lie down on the bed, arms at your sides, legs together, eyes closed," he said without turning.

Following his instruction, she lay down and waited several long minutes, listening to the rainfall on the roof until the bed shifted on the right side from his weight.

She could feel him sitting beside her, bracing one hand near her head and tracing her skin with his fingertips."So very beautiful, Eleanor," he said in a voice that poured over her smooth as molasses. "I can't say it enough to match your beauty."

His warm palm ran across her stomach, up along her ribs, causing the silk to glide across her skin.

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to come to me. Much longer than these past two eternal months, I assure you."

His fingers traced her delicate collarbone, sliding up the tender flesh of her neck to cup her face. A breath later, she felt the faintest brush of his lips against hers before his tongue coaxed them to open. Without the use of her sight, her other senses spiked into hyperawareness. His skin smelled of the storm, the clean masculine scent and the heat of his body flooding her as his mouth claimed hers.

Ellie's hand drifted upward, aching to touch him, to wind her fingers through his short dark hair, to pull him closer. The sudden loss of his mouth on hers made her cry out in protest, but his low warning shushed her.

"I said arms at your _sides_, girl," he growled. She felt the bed shift as he moved away from her, keenly aware of the absence of the warmth shielding her body from the breeze.

Worried that she'd disappointed him, that he'd leave, she flattened her palms against the cool sheet. "Sorry, Sir," she whispered. "It's so hard not to touch you, when I want you so bad."

"I know, I know, girl," he crooned in sympathy. "You want to so bad it hurts, doesn't it?"

"It does. I can hardly stand it."

"But you will," he stated, all sympathy erased from his voice. "You will stand it. And you can. I should know."

In a heartbeat, his breath was at her ear again, his words dancing across the skin of her neck. "You will bear it for me, Eleanor. As I endured for you. Do you think it was hard for me, waiting two long months to touch you?"

He gave a short laugh, "Try three years' worth of Sundays. Dreading that day, knowing the torture I was putting myself through by sitting so near you, never able to touch you like I wanted to, claim what I knew should belong to me. Yet unable to refuse the chance just to see you, excited by the hope that one day your smile would be for me."

A light kiss on her brow softened the ragged edge of his next words. "How much harder, do you think, to find you bound by your own hand?"

His lips brushed hers as his hand ghosted over the sheer fabric covering her belly. "Knowing you wanted what I wanted..." she tossed her head back, baring her throat as his mouth found the throbbing pulse of her neck. John's fingers drifted down past the edge of the silk, tracing over the skin of her thighs, "…so ready for me..." his warm hand slid down between her inner thighs, stroking the tender flesh, "…not for him, but for _me_… seeing you displayed like that, smelling the need heavy on your skin, wanting to bury myself hilt-deep in you, over and over. And knowing I had to walk away?"

A ragged shudder tore through her as he took his time, drawing small patterns on her skin, the tips of his fingers edging ever so slowly toward the sheer silky panties. "So yes, girl, you can bear it. You're capable of so much more than you give yourself credit for. I'm gonna help you prove that to me… to yourself."

Ellie felt the flood of heat sear through her, a new wetness slicking the aroused flesh beneath the silk when he left off the feathery touches and his large, warm hand possessively cupped her mound. He must have felt the moisture his touch created, but she barely had time to register that thought as an electric jolt shot from her left nipple. Rasping his tongue across the sheer-covered bud, John drew the peak into his mouth, silk and all, letting his teeth catch hold of the sensitive kernel as he pulled back. She heard him chuckle at her body's response, her back arching up and her hands desperately gripping the sheet to keep from leaving their position. He gave a little shake of his head, the nipple still trapped, carefully but resolutely, between his teeth.

Releasing her, he laughed again, low and sexy and dangerous. "You've thought about me for a long time, haven't you Eleanor? Admit it."

The admission froze in her throat as he moved lightning-quick to the other breast, giving it the same treatment.

"Yes!" she gasped, her awareness narrowing to the sensations of his mouth and voice and the long, wonderful fingers that had started moving without hurry between her legs. A sharper squeeze of teeth on nipple reminded her of his earlier instructions. "Yes, Sir!"

"You thought of this, thought of _me_ doing this to you when you chained yourself." He caressed her wet center through the panties, the glide of skin on silk on newly shaved skin causing her legs to fall open a bit more, despite her half-hazed efforts to keep them together. "Didn't you, girl?"

"Yes…I did."

He raked a fingernail lightly along the damp crease.

"Even when you were with Devon, you ached for _me_ to touch you like this. Wanted me to do things to you that he wouldn't. Things he could never bring himself to do to you."

"Yes!" she whispered adamantly. "Yes, ached for you, even then. Sir."

"How did that make you feel, Eleanor? Did it bother you, that you were thinking of me when you were still with him?"

"I felt…," she said quietly, another blush staining her cheeks. "I felt guilty. Still feel guilty."

"Oh, baby, I don't want that, do you?" he crooned in her ear. "I don't want it on your mind, the weight of it laying silent between us. Don't you want to release that guilt?"

"I do!" she sobbed from both the desperate need to be rid of it and the ardent response to his touch. "I don't want it any more, John, I want it gone! But I don't know how to make it go away."

"I want it to go away too, sweetheart. I told you – when you gave yourself to me, when I made you mine, there won't be any other man's claim on you. Not physical. Not emotional. Not mental. And holding onto this guilt is giving another man an emotional and mental claim on what's mine. I won't _have_ it," he said fiercely.

"You were naughty, and naughty girls get punished. What kind of punishment do you think you've earned? I hardly think a time-out would do the trick. And grounding, well, that's just not going to work for anyone. How should you make amends for the dirty thoughts you had about me while Devon was fucking you?"

She said it so low he almost missed it. "What was that, darling?"

"I said…you should spank me, Sir."

.*.*.

To Be Continued…


	9. Chapter 9

Clearing the Slate ~ Chapter Nine  
Rating: NC-18/Mature~ADULTS ONLY! SMINK warning (SmutKink), Dom/sub relationship  
Pairing: Ellie Bartowski/John Casey  
Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck, any of Chuck's characters, and make no money from this. Purely for pleasure. Special thanks to BigBadJayne for wonderful encouragement, assistance and beta throughout this series! Y'all enjoy!

A/N: Contains explicit adult content, elements of consensual BDSM, spanking.  
Hope y'all enjoy... reviews are manna... please feed the writer! ;D

.*.*.

John rose swiftly, crossing the room in determined strides, and taking a seat on the plain, straight-backed chair near the window. "Come to me. _Now_."

Ellie complied quickly, trying not to let her nervousness show. John held a hand outstretched to draw her to stand by his side.

"Lay yourself across my legs, facing down, and put your hands on the window sill. And don't be slow."

Ellie stretched herself across his parted legs, the gossamer silk sliding up to the small of her back as she placed her essentially bare rear in the center. John adjusted her to the edge of one leather-clad thigh so that her hips bent and her feet touched the floor. Resting his right hand in the small of her back, he twined her long, dark hair in his left, holding it gently but with intent so that her face tilted slightly toward him.

"Look at me. This is very important, Eleanor," he said in a firm but gentle voice. "You must understand: once punishment has been fulfilled, the infraction is forgiven. More importantly, it's absolutely forgotten. By me, and by you. Accepting the atonement means giving up that guilt. That means you don't give it one more second of room in your mind. You're free of it, is that understood?" She nodded, a bit more easy about it. "Good. Now…"

"John?" That tremulous note was back in her voice, despite her obvious excitement at what lay ahead. "Will you be using a w-whip?"

John chuckled, but must have sensed her fear, as he didn't laugh too loudly. For a brief moment, the stern authority faded from his eyes, as he caressed the curve of her face with the backs of his fingers. Brushing a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, he gave her an understanding smile.

"No, sweetheart, nothing quite that severe," he said gently. "Some folks like the welts, and they have their place in pleasure, to be sure. And if that's something you'd like to …" his voice dropped several notes, grew huskier, accentuating the shift in his lower body under her.

His fingers slid up from her ass cheeks to wrap the thin satin of her panties in his grip, his thighs tensing, raising the hard ridge under the leather to grind against her. A slow hiss escaped from his gritted teeth as his lids drifted shut, his body taut as a bowstring drawn for firing. A groan of primal need rumbled from the depths of his broad chest, and for an eternal instant, she was sure he was ready to scoop her up in his arms, toss her on the bed and take her without restraint.

Thrusting up into her prone body, he pressed his erection against her, holding her firm as his breathing rasped uneven and harsh through the room. A ragged shudder ran through him, echoed in her own body. In a moment, she could hear his breathing change, a controlled inhale through his nose, held for several heartbeats, steady exhale spread across several seconds and repeated. The hard muscles of his thighs relaxed as his breath returned to some semblance of normal, his hand releasing her panties and easing down over her buttocks.

"If it's something you'd like to explore later, perhaps. But for tonight…" he stroked the round cheeks, his voice growing harder. "For tonight, I think my hard, bare hand against your soft, bare, ass will be sufficient."

Ellie tensed, waiting for the first blow, but John kept stroking her firm flesh. After a long moment, she released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and relaxed against his strong legs. The second she relaxed, he slid his hand up to the thin waistband of her sheer panties, caressing the tender area of her lower back before slowly dragging the fabric down across her ass. He let the elastic catch at the middle of her thighs, the sensation of her panties pulled down on her legs left as a physical reminder of her exposure, more erotic than had he pulled them off entirely.

The breeze from the open window danced across her vulnerably sensitive and newly-shaved nethers, and despite the anxiety of what was to come, Ellie felt the arousal growing between her legs.

"How many licks do you think we'll need?" John asked casually.

"I… I don't know," she stammered, not having thought of that. "Five?" she asked hopefully.

"Hmmm," John seemed to consider the answer, all the while sliding his palm across the exposed area. "Five seems a bit light. I mean, how many times were you thinking lustful, dirty thoughts of me when you were getting plowed by Devon? I'm thinking… let's start with an even dozen and decide from there. Okay?"

Before she could agree or argue, his hand landed with a sting on her bare buttocks. Ellie gasped as the sudden heat flared and spread across her naked flesh.

"That's one," he said calmly. "Oh, I meant to mention, in order for you to release that guilt, you have to be an active participant in your punishment. Doesn't seem to work as well if you just lie there and get it. So… you count. After each stroke, you give me the number. Because I might lose track, and have to start all over again. And to make sure you truly want this freedom, you'll have to thank me for each stroke, and ask me for the next one. Are we clear?"

"Yes," she whispered, tears starting to line her eyes.

"What was that?" he prompted, rubbing lightly along the area he'd just lit up, before his hand landed again. "You didn't say it correctly."

"Yes, Sir," she said with more conviction.

"Good. That one was to remind you. You don't count it. So, where are we?"

Ellie nodded, adding the count. "One. Thank you, Sir. May I have the next one?"

"Please?"

"May I please have the next one, Sir?"

He was silent for the next strokes, giving neither encouragement nor praise nor condemnation in the long moments between each one, but letting her think about things. Following each smack against her raised bottom, his heated hand smoothed lovingly over her affronted cheeks as she gave the tally.

At four, his hand dipped a bit lower, catching the smallest portion of her newly-bald lips. The stroke stung, but on the heels of that sting, an erotic sensation danced across her flesh.

"He would never do this to you, would he? Never do this _for_ you. Wouldn't understand why you needed it."

"Aahh! Four!" she gasped. "Thank you, Sir, another please. No, he would never have."

"Mmmm, damned shame, that," he murmured as he caressed her inner thighs. "Must have been hard on you, wanting it so bad, never getting what you really needed. Did you ever ask him?"

"I couldn't. Never had the nerve to actually ask him outright," she said, squirming into the warmth of his hand. "But I hinted pretty hard a few times. He did try to spank me with a hairbrush once, but it was… he was just playing, all a joke. Didn't take it seriously. I use the brush harder to get out tangles than he did on my butt. Aahh! Five!"

"Do you think _I'm_ taking it seriously, Eleanor?"

"Yes, Sir, I think you're serious. Thank you. May I… please have…the next?"

"Did you ever close your eyes, when he was driving deep into you, and picture my face, Eleanor?"

"I did. I – ohh! Six, Sir! Thank you, please may I have another? – I did imagine it was – " she groaned and arched back into his fingers, two of which were now sliding slowly into her wet, swollen core, "I pictured it was you."

"Wanted it to be me, didn't you?" he coaxed, easing the fingers back out and in again with exquisite patience. "Wanted me to be filling you up, making you moan. Wasn't fair to Devon, you spreading those gorgeous legs for him, letting yourself pretend it was me in between your thighs. Now was it, Eleanor?"

"Ohhhhh! No…no it wasn't fair. Wasn't right," she writhed, spreading her thighs wider as he added a third finger. "But I couldn't help it. Couldn't keep from wanting you."

The delicious fingers pulled from her aching flesh, and she whimpered at the loss. The whine turned to a pleasured squeal as those fingers found her swollen clit, bathing the hard nub in her own juices. Ellie pushed her rear up to give him more access, gasping as the next smack popped her ass.

"S-s-seven! Thank you, Sir, another, please, another!"

He didn't hesitate before the next, but landed the next blow as soon as she asked.

"Eight! Thank you, another, may I please – " the word drifted from her throat on the edge of a deep groan as his fingers curled up into her primed sex again, his pinkie finger slipping down to tease her clit.

"No, it wasn't fair, wasn't nice at all," he said firmly. "But then, he wasn't very nice, either, was he, sweetheart? Wouldn't give you what you needed. Wouldn't give you this…"

She gasped as he pistoned three fingers in and out of her, still working her clit with his pinky, while his thumb spread her come across the tight, virgin opening of her ass. "Wouldn't play dirty with you, and that's just not nice. Cause every girl has a little dirty side to her, doesn't she?"

"Mmmmmmm… oh, yes! Yes, John!"

"Ah-ah-ah…" he scolded, pulling his fingers out to pop her cheeks smartly. "Forgot something. Keep that up, and I'll start to think you like this… maybe you're forgetting on purpose, just to get bonus strokes. Don't count that one, by the way."

"I'm sorry, Sir," she panted, moaning deep when his magical fingers penetrated her once again.

" You are a dirty girl, aren't you, Eleanor, hiding behind that sweet smile? Had lots of dirty, smutty thoughts, haven't you?"

"Ohhhhh, yes, I have, Sir."

"I like dirty thoughts, did you know that?" He let his thumb swirl a bit harder against her untried opening. "Had lots and lots of dirty thoughts about you. Wanted to tell you about them. Show you what I wanted to do to you, lots of times. But I couldn't, now could I?"

"No," she whined, squirming into his skillful fingers. "I…I… suppose you c-couldn't."

Slipping from her folds, he gave two swift swats in a row. "No, I. Couldn't," he said easily as each smack of his palm landed against her burning ass to punctuate his words. "Not while he was there. How do you think that made me feel, Eleanor? Wanting to do such dirty, wonderful things to you, make you come so sweet and hard, but stuck across the courtyard, knowing it was him buried deep between your thighs instead of me? And here, all the while, you were wishing it was me inside you anyway. Was that five?"

"N-nine, and t-t-ten," she managed, unable now to prevent her body from rocking against his legs in need. The sheer silk trapped between her hardened nipples and his other leg, gliding against her sensitized skin as she writhed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, John, that I made you feel that way. S-s-s-sorry I didn't tell you sooner. Please…please… thank you…another..."

"Ten? Are you sure?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Wasn't fair, either, wishing he could be something he wasn't," he stated calmly with number eleven. He traced the bottom edges of her cheeks near the juncture of her quivering thighs. "But you did the right thing, Eleanor, didn't you. You released him from those expectations. Released him to find his own happiness. Set him free before it was too late for both of you."

"I… I want him to… be happy, too," she panted, as his fingers were back inside her now, working nimbly against the hypersensitive spot at her womb's front wall. "Couldn't be… happy… with me. Only… only… only a matter of time…"

Ellie dropped her head, pulling her right arm from the window sill, reaching to wrap around his calf, anchor herself against the roaring pleasure rising over her. Gripping his leg she held on for fear of flying off, she let the wave crest and crash through her, both distantly and acutely aware of his palm delivering the final sharp smack punctuated by her breathy cries.

Laying prone against the steadiness of John's thighs, Ellie felt the rush of sensation ebb away. Gone was the persistent heaviness in her chest that she'd not truly been aware of until she felt the conspicuous absence. Still clutching his leg, she rested her head against his knee as her heartbeat pounded through her limbs. She couldn't stop the smile forming on her lips as she whispered breathlessly, " Twelve…Sir. Thank you. Thank you, John, thank you."

John rubbed her bottom tenderly, massaging the flesh now and again, before pulling her up into his lap and wrapping his arms around her. Ellie tucked her head beneath his chin, nestling into the crook of his neck. He crossed his ankle over the opposite knee, making a nest for her to curl up against his body heat, his still heated hand running up her thigh, pulling her closer to him. From somewhere behind him, he produced a throw blanket, tucking it around her limbs.

"It's done with, now," he murmured into her hair with a kiss. "Over and forgotten. You paid your penance. You're not to allow it one more moment to trouble you, ever again. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir," she replied, tucking her hands between his chest and hers.

"Good girl," he praised with a smile, rubbing his thumb along her upper arm. "There's my good girl."

.*.*.

To Be Continued…


End file.
